


By the River in Wakanda

by Regi



Category: Captain America (Movies), Marvel Cinematic Universe
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Bearded Steve Rogers, Bottom Bucky Barnes, Bottom Steve Rogers, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, First Time, Getting Together, Light Angst, M/M, One Shot, Past Peggy Carter/Steve Rogers, Pining, Post-Captain America: Civil War (Movie), Pre-Avengers: Infinity War Part 1 (Movie), Top Bucky Barnes, Top Steve Rogers, Trauma, Wakanda (Marvel)
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-10-12
Updated: 2020-10-12
Packaged: 2021-03-07 22:08:27
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,444
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26974924
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Regi/pseuds/Regi
Summary: Bucky still regretted not saying anything then and there. The words were there—they always had been. Steve was more than his best friend. Steve was… well, he was Steve. He never planned to pursue those feelings before the war. Steve was already beaten up simply for existing and Bucky refused to put an even bigger target on his back. Instead, he decided to keep his role as the best friend. That way, he could always be with him; they could always be together even if they weren’t together.orBucky has a lot of regrets and Steve visits him in Wakanda
Relationships: James "Bucky" Barnes/Steve Rogers
Comments: 4
Kudos: 81





	By the River in Wakanda

**Author's Note:**

> Betas: butwhatifwedid and wordsbymeganmichael 
> 
> Takes place after Bucky wakes up in Wakanda (pre-Infinity War. It never happens because I like happy endings, dammit). Bucky kinda just lives there and Steve comes to visit him regularly. 
> 
> (I do not own these characters)

The morning sun peeked through the curtains, shining right onto Bucky’s face. He thought about rolling over, burying his face in his pillow, but there was no point. It’s not like he was asleep to begin with. He never slept. And when he did, he never slept well. Sometimes, he would just lay there and stare at the ceiling, counting the beams. At least it was a nice ceiling? He really shouldn’t complain. It had to be better than life on ice, right? 

The hut he stayed in was actually kind of nice—and nothing like the high-tech facility he saw before he was frozen. It was at the edge of a small village, right along the river. Some of the local children would randomly appear and just stare at him. He wasn’t sure if it was because of his dashing good looks or if it was because he was the weird guy with one arm (it was definitely the arm). The interest in him dwindled as his stay in Wakanda grew longer. 

It had been nearly six months since he met Shuri by the river. She never really specified if they “fixed” him, but “there’s only one way to find out,” she joked. But there really was  _ only _ one way to find out, which was probably why they put him in a hut at the edge of a village, far away from most people. Before the war, it would’ve driven him nuts—being isolated and all. He was always the socialite. He had plenty of friends, plenty of women who wanted to be more than friends, neighbors who he barely knew but would still talk to just to have a conversation. But that all felt like it was worlds away. 

Things really started to change after his division was captured during the war. He really didn’t think he’d survive that. He had been hand selected by Zola—to be his next experiment. Zola said he saw hope in his eyes, and he was going to enjoy watching it disappear. 

Bucky really didn’t remember the actual experiments, which was probably for the best. He remembered sweating a lot and screaming a lot, but not specific details. But he did remember what got him through it all. When Zola would leave Bucky strapped to the metal table, his mind would wander back to the same thing it always did: Steve. The stupid punk who was always looking for a fight, so headstrong that he’d do just about anything in the name of justice. Maybe he was a horrible friend for thinking so, but he was so happy Steve couldn’t be drafted. It always gave him that glimmer of hope—that no matter what, Steve would be at home in Brooklyn, safe from whatever weird shit Bucky was going through. Needless to say, he was pretty pissed when he found out Steve took part in an illegal experiment and walked headfirst into the firefight. When Steve showed up at Schmidt’s base, Bucky thought he had finally died. Steve was there, in Siberia, pulling him into his muscular arms—he didn’t have those before, either. It was some sort of fantasy. It had to be. But no, lo and behold Steve had become  _ Captain America _ , protector of justice and puncher of Nazis. 

Bucky still regretted not saying anything then and there. The words were there—they always had been. Steve was more than his best friend. Steve was… well, he was Steve. And seeing him again made Bucky wonder if he ever thought of him while he was away, or if he ever thought about…no, probably not. When they were finally reunited, Steve treated him the same as he always did. There was no way he could remember that and look Bucky in the eye, right?

Bucky never planned to pursue those feelings before the war. Steve was already beaten up simply for existing and Bucky refused to put an even bigger target on his back. Instead, he decided to keep his role as the best friend. That way, he could always be with him; they could always be together even if they weren’t  _ together _ . It also gave him ample opportunity to sabotage any possible relationship Steve would develop. Was that healthy? Absolutely not, but he knew that. For the longest time, he was convinced it was the only way he could hold onto his friend. The first one was when they were in high school, and Steve had eyes for this beautiful upperclassman. He never said anything, but it was pretty obvious. Her name was Sherry? Cheryl? Bucky honestly couldn’t remember anymore. But all Bucky had to do was throw her a few flashy smiles and she was wrapped around his finger. Any time Bucky would bring a date to something, he was supposed to invite his date’s friend—one he knew was very uninterested in Steve’s boylike features. And any time they did show interest Bucky would swoop in, sweep her off her feet, and sometimes take her right to bed. It worked for the time, but he knew it would be short lived. One day, they would both settle down with a couple of nice girls and have a few kids. There was no other option. Not a safe one, at least. 

When Bucky got his draft papers, he thought it was all over. There was a good chance he would never see Steve again. People were dying left and right over this war. If he was sent to Europe, he was probably never coming back. So the night before he was supposed to report for duty, he showed up at Steve’s with a couple of beers. Steve tried to tell him to go home because it was late, and he needed sleep, but Bucky insisted he could sleep on the ride there. He kind of shoved the drinks at Steve. He knew he couldn’t hold his liquor and maybe—just maybe—Bucky could finally say what he needed to. He didn’t, of course. Instead he sat and listened as Steve’s speech started to slur. He kept making jokes at Bucky’s expense, but it really didn’t bother him. It wasn’t until Steve brought up that Sherry/Cheryl girl that the mood changed. 

He asked Bucky why he always went after the women Steve fancied—why he sabotaged Steve’s few chances at happiness. He wanted to know why his best friend hated him so much. And Bucky couldn’t take it any longer. He grabbed Steve's small face in his hands and said “I love you.” He didn’t even give Steve a chance to respond before covering his mouth with his own. Steve pushed him off and yelled at him for making “such a terrible joke.” Bucky just shook his head, fighting the lump in his throat. He rasped some sort of apology before he tried to leave, but Steve insisted that he waited. Maybe Steve pitied him. After all, he probably wasn’t coming back, right? So maybe that’s why Steve pulled him back in for another hungry kiss. Before they knew what was happening, their pants were around their ankles. Bucky found an oil from Steve’s art bag, spread some between the smaller man’s cheeks, and shoved himself inside of his tight hole. Steve cried out at the intrusion and bit the back of his hand to muffle his sounds. What Bucky wanted to be sweet and sensual was rough and passionate. He only lasted a few moments before he came in Steve’s ass. Steve fell asleep almost immediately after and Bucky didn’t bother to wake him before he left. He thought it was better that way. 

He never thought he’d see Steve again. He thought he’d avoided the consequences of their drunken night together. He thought he wouldn’t have to watch as Steve fell in love with someone else. By the time Steve rescued Bucky, he was already involved with a beautiful English woman. And this time, Bucky’s old tricks didn’t work. She only had eyes for Steve, and Steve only had eyes for her. So Bucky did what he always thought he’d have to do: just stay friends. 

He gave everything to Steve and his Howling Commandos, so long as it meant they’d get to be together. It sounded desperate, but he just wanted to be together. Even if they couldn’t be  _ together _ . And then he died—kinda. 

_ Bucky Barnes _ no longer existed. Instead, he was the  _ Winter Soldier _ . He’d be lying if he said he didn’t remember it all. Everything he did, everyone he killed…it was all still there, but now it was sharing the same space as those stupid pre-war memories. If only Shuri could make him forget everything again. His life would be a lot easier. Bucky figured he’d be pretty happy as an amnesiatic goat farmer in the middle of Wakanda. He went from having no memories to having every single memory possible and it was probably the reason he wasn’t sleeping well. 

What bothered him most was the overwhelming forgiveness he got from Steve. The same Steve who he tried to kill on a helicarrier (and a roof, S.H.I.E.LD. headquarters, a car, his apartment…) begged for Bucky’s life, because he wanted to protect his best friend. Bucky should be grateful, but the whole ordeal just made him feel guiltier and guiltier. Steve gave up everything to protect him. And Bucky still wasn’t sure why. 

When he was brought out of his frozen state, Shuri told him that Steve became a vigilante. He was wanted by most countries. Most of his friends either turned their backs on him or were also on the run. It was a mess. And there was nothing Bucky could do to make it better. He could only sit around, staring at his ceiling. 

__________________________________________________________ 

The first time Steve came to see him, Bucky had only been awake for about a month. He apologized for making Bucky wait so long (as if Bucky had somewhere else to be). He came to Bucky’s little hut and they just talked for hours. Steve wanted to know everything—was Bucky feeling better? Did his left shoulder still hurt? How did he spend his time?—it was all very odd. Bucky was sure Steve would want to know the details about being the Winter Soldier or if he was still feeling homicidal—but no, he wanted to know what Bucky did with his free time. So Bucky showed him around the village, introduced him to the nice women who made him food and the children that constantly tormented him, and Steve was content. Before he left, Steve pulled him into a warm embrace and Bucky almost lost it. Neither of them wanted to part, but they had no reason to stay there.

Steve didn’t go again for almost eight weeks. By the time he rolled in, he was sporting some unruly facial hair and a bruise above his left eye. He never said how he got it, and Bucky didn’t ask. 

They spent most of the day by the river. Bucky showed him where he fished and told Steve that they still had to catch their dinner. It wasn’t until the sun went down and their bellies were full that Steve told him about Peggy. She died of old age when Bucky was still in Romania. Steve said it was the first time he felt completely alone. He tried to fight back tears for a little but eventually gave up. Bucky could do nothing but place a comforting hand on his back. “I really loved her,” Steve said. And, for the first time in a long time, Bucky felt the sharp pain in his heart. Steve loved her. And he loved Steve.

Steve started showing up more frequently, but he never stayed more than a day. He started dragging Bucky to the city, and Bucky was happy to oblige. As much as he loved sitting by the river, watching Steve sob over the love of his life, he preferred to stay busy. It left little time for either of them to think. Bucky found himself yearning for the days Steve would randomly appear. He wanted to pretend he was over all of those past feelings, but every time he saw his face, he got that rush of warmth. A feeling of relief washed over him every time he saw him; he wasn’t sure if he was relieved that Steve didn’t get himself killed or that Steve didn’t forget he existed. 

So when Bucky walked out of his hut that morning and saw his best friend staring at his own reflection in the river, he gave a contented sigh. 

“How long have you been here?” he asked, pulling Steve’s attention from the water.

“Not too long. Maybe an hour?”

“You should've woken me up.”

Steve shook his head. “Nah, you need your sleep.”

Bucky frowned. 

“Do you think I should shave it?” Steve asked abruptly, scratching at his beard. “Be honest.”

“I don’t know,” Bucky shrugged. “It only took you, what, ninety-five years to grow it?” 

Steve frowned. “Well, not all of us had facial hair when we were fourteen, now did we?” 

Bucky chuckled, looking at the ground. That was when he noticed the bag at Steve’s feet. “Going somewhere?” he asked. 

“Hm?” Steve inquired. “Oh, this? Yeah, I was hoping I could stay here. Just for a night or two.” 

Bucky raised an eyebrow. “Really?”

“Yeah, I thought it’d be fun. Like the old days, when I’d get sick and you’d sleep on my floor because you were convinced I wouldn’t take care of myself.”

“Which you didn’t.”

Steve ignored him. “Unless you don’t want me to. T’Challa offered me a room, so if it’s too much—”

“It’s not.” 

Steve smiled. “You’re the best, Buck,” he said.

They spent the day lazing around the riverbed. A few children showed up and wanted to know what they were doing. Steve invited them to fish with him (much to Bucky’s dismay), but they did catch a lot for dinner. Before they knew it, it was nightfall and parents were urging their children home. Bucky couldn’t help but wonder if Steve wanted children. Who was he kidding, he obviously did. Had he lived happily with Peggy, they would have definitely had a happy family. But fate has a sick sense of humor. Instead of the life he deserved, Steve was ninety going on thirty, stuck in a completely different century with completely different people. The only person he did know was his sometimes-homicidal best friend who forgot he existed for a few decades. How fortunate. Bucky shook the thoughts from his head and made his way back to the hut, knowing full well that Steve would follow.

After multiple arguments over who should sleep on the floor, they both conceded and agreed to share the small bed. It wouldn’t have been too bad had they not been super soldiers—or if Steve had just stayed small—but it really wasn’t practical anymore. Their backs were pressed together, and Bucky could feel Steve’s deep breaths. 

“Hey Buck?” Steve asked quietly. 

“Yeah?” Bucky tensed.

“This really isn’t comfortable,” Steve laughed. 

Bucky chuckled. “Not at all.” 

“It certainly brings back memories though.”

“It’s hot,” Bucky grumbled. 

Steve laughed again. “It could be worse.”

“Yeah, I could make you sleep on the floor.”

“You could. But you wouldn’t,” Steve mused. 

Bucky smiled and wondered if Steve always knew that he had him wrapped around his finger. 

“I was in Denmark recently,” Steve continued. “It’s really nice there.”

“So I’ve heard.”

Steve paused. “While I was there, I saw something interesting.”

“Oh, yeah?” 

“Yeah. When I went for a run, I saw these two old guys feeding the birds. They didn’t say much to each other, but they both looked so happy.”

Bucky waited.

“And when they were done, the one man leaned over and kissed his companion. And it was a real kiss, not a greeting or anything. They walked away, hand in hand and it made me understand some things.”

Bucky’s mouth suddenly felt dry. “What kind of things?” Bucky croaked. 

“I actually asked T’Challa about it, you know. I wanted to know if that was… normal. For two men to… be out in the open and all,” Steve trailed off. “I think it’s great. People get to love who they love and not have to worry about anything else.”

“Steve…”

“It made me think that that could’ve been us. Back before everything happened.” 

Bucky’s breath hitched. What was he supposed to say to that? “I—”

“I didn’t notice it when I should have,” Steve said. “And when I did…I’m sorry, Buck.”

“You didn’t do anything wrong,” he said.

“When I finally saw you again, there were so many things I needed to say.”

Bucky took a deep breath. “Like what?”

“Like how terrible your bedside manner is. I really hope you didn’t treat your women like that.”

His eyes widened. Bucky wasn’t expecting that. “What?”

Steve rolled over. “I get why you didn’t say anything. There was no future for it then—at least not a safe one. But I wonder if that’s why we’re both here, now. I think fate is giving us a second chance,” he said, looping his arm around Bucky’s waist. 

“What about Peggy?” Bucky rasped. 

Steve sighed. “I won’t deny loving her. I loved her very much.”

Bucky closed his eyes, trying to ignore the sharp pain in his chest.

“But Peggy’s gone, Buck. She’s gone and we’re still here. Some things aren’t meant to be… and some are. Can you look at me?”

Wordlessly, Bucky did as he was told. Their faces were so close that their noses almost touched. Steve brought his hand up and rested it on Bucky’s cheek, stroking his thumb over Bucky’s lips. Bucky felt like he had to say something, but there was nothing left to say. Should he tell him he loved him? Did Steve even need to hear it at this point? His internal game of Twenty Questions was cut short when Steve’s lips brushed against his own.

This kiss was clumsy—almost as if they were both out of practice. Steve's hand dropped to Bucky’s shoulder, gently caressing the tender spot where skin met metal, before moving down his chest. Bucky leaned into his kiss, happily exploring Steve’s mouth with his own. He swept his tongue over Steve’s lip, deepening their kiss. He almost didn’t notice Steve adjusting them so that Bucky was flat on his back. 

Steve broke their kiss and reached for his bag. He placed a small tube on the bed and Bucky furrowed his brow. 

“They make stuff for this now,” Steve said sheepishly, avoiding his gaze. 

Bucky squinted, trying to read the small text on the bottle. ‘Slick n’ Slide,’ he read.  _ Oh _ . He had to admit, the thought of Steve buying something so vulgar was pretty amusing. He probably blushed the whole time. 

“And you want to?” Bucky asked. 

“If I can,” he whispered. 

The lightbulb in the back of Bucky’s mind finally went off. They were both hard as rocks and he was on his back with Steve kneeling between his legs.  _ Oh _ . “S’fine,” he mumbled almost inaudibly. 

Soon enough, they were both kissing again—naked, this time. Steve had two wet fingers in him already, and Bucky was ready for more. Without saying anything, Steve positioned himself at his slick hole. Steve slowly pressed into him, careful not to hurt him. Bucky gasped just as the head passed his entrance and Steve stopped to see if he was okay. Before he could even ask, Bucky pulled him in for a kiss and urged him to continue. This time Steve didn’t stop until his hips rested against Bucky’s ass. 

Bucky groaned. The stretch burned but was also pleasurable, and pleasure took over as Steve started to move. Bucky wrapped his arm around Steve’s neck as he slid back into him, grunting with each thrust. Steve wrapped his fist around Bucky’s throbbing cock and Bucky saw white. Steve spilled inside of him before pulling out, wrapping his arms around him yet again. 

And for once, Bucky didn’t remember H.Y.D.R.A. He didn’t remember the torture. He didn’t remember the guilt he felt for leaving Steve. He was just happy. He was so happy that Steve was his and he was Steve’s. He didn’t bother to ask if Steve was really leaving in two days. He didn’t care, because he knew, no matter what, Steve would come back to him. And he loved him. 

  
  



End file.
